Broken Promises
by Alakata
Summary: The greatest loss in life is not dying, but what dies inside us while we live. In the end, all he had was broken promises. One-shot.


DISCLAIMER: Not rich and still in school. Alas, I don't own Harry. I just get to play with him for a while.

SUMMARY: Severus Snape's life was determined by a series of broken promise after broken promise, and somehow he still couldn't stop hoping.

1. When Eileen Prince, young and pretty and scared and so very much in love, first told Tobias about her magic he stared at her for a long time, not moving (not _breathing_) and then he smiled. A shaky smile, true, but a smile nonetheless. He smiled and she cried and they laughed together, and then they were married two weeks later and he promised that he would never, ever hurt her, no matter what life threw at them. He kept that promise right up until he lost his aging mother and realised that there are some things that even magic can't fix. Death was one.

A broken heart was another, but he never realised that.

2. Eight and a half months later, and feeling once again the guilt of what he'd said and done whilst in a drunken stupor, Tobias Snape promised his young wife that he would never hurt her again. He'd apologised before, back then when he'd woken up sober and hurting and oh-so-scared because it didn't quite register that he had been the one to do it to her, but all of a sudden that didn't seem like it was anywhere near enough. She had to know that he wouldn't do it again – _had _to. She looked up at him, soft grey eyes on pleading black, and quietly told him that that didn't matter. That she'd forgive him, and that no matter what she'd love him. But it wasn't enough to promise for her. He couldn't hurt _him_, couldn't hurt their newborn son. He promised, then and there. He made that promise sincerely, and he had every intention of keeping it.

Six years later, that promise was the last thing on his mind when he found his son practicing the magic he'd come to despise, not for what it _could_ do, but for what it couldn't.

3. When Eileen promised Severus that magic was a good thing, that there was more to life for him than misery and fear, and that things would be better when he got to Hogwarts, he believed her. His mother wanted him to believe, and so he believed, even though she never used the magic herself (_Tobias really hated magic, and she really loved Tobias). _Those gentle reassurances seemed all the bitterer when he got to Hogwarts and found that it was indeed splendourous and wonderful... but only for those who didn't wear the green and silver of Slytherin.

4. Severus Snape was eight years old when he met Lily Evans for the first time. He'd never had a friend before, and Lily's innocent kindness touched him even as he scoffed at it. A mere two months after meeting her, he made her a solemn promise that he would never lie to her or hurt her ("_Is that true, Sev? Is it really real?")... _Because people like Lily Evans were like sunbeams in the abyss, and she drew him to her like a moth to a flame.

Seven years later, that promise was broken with a single word, a single horrible, unintended, totally unmeant word. A cornered animal is ever the most vicious, and his pride wouldn't allow her to stand up to them for him. But pride goes before a fall, and he had never fallen further.

5. It was on Platform 9 3/4, at King's Cross Station in London, that Lily promised him that she would always be his friend – no matter what life threw at them. Looking back, he always thought that that was when he realised that he loved her. It was the best moment of a decidedly unhappy life.

The worst ... The worst was a day that was permanently engrained in his memory, and no amount of loathing (_of himself and of James bloody Potter and his cronies_), had ever managed to erase it. He had always hated the word mudblood.

He had never realised that the word 'friend' meant less to someone who had lots of them, who could afford to let one go.

6. Lucius Malfoy was one of those people you just couldn't help but admire. Charismatic and handsome, rich and charming and popular, he'd always seemed to have it all. Even the Gryffindors felt drawn to him. He'd never had a title, but everyone knew that the Slytherins all followed where he lead them. He only had to ask, and he would receive – and the giver would feel honoured that they had been able to help him out. To be complimented by him was to be blessed; someone with his favour was more powerful by proxy, and power was everything in Slytherin House.

When Lucius had come to him with promises of power and prestige for those who entered the Dark Lord's service, Severus had believed him. Not because he was a trusting person – by nature, he was as paranoid as Lord Voldemort himself – but because he couldn't imagine that someone like Lucius, who had it all, would bother to lie to _him: _shabby, poor, half-blood Severus Snape, as far a cry from the aristocrats Lucius normally mingled with as you could get whilst still dealing with wizards. Lucius was a Malfoy; and that was practically synonymous with 'politician'. He was an expert at this, and Severus fell for it hook, line and sinker.

And he remembered that all too well when he realised that service had not brought him power or happiness, but the death of the only person he had ever called a friend and the destruction of the hope that he had been living for.

7. Entry into the ranks of the Death Eaters demanded an oath of loyalty, sworn upon magic and soul, that they were loyal to Lord Voldemort and his cause. Those who weren't – who had been sent to spy, whether by the Ministry of Magic or by Dumbledore or some other faction – were dealt with in a decidedly ... painful ... manner by their own magic. Severus, young and still clinging to a desperate hope that one day things might get better, and that the Dark Lord's service was a way to get there (_that by serving he could save Lily from the storm that was rising_), had never feared that oath. The scent of power and freedom and _revenge _for the way his childhood had been made a living hell was heady, and it was so easy to get caught up in the rush. The Dark Lord was a man who inspired fervour in his followers; charismatic and regal, with a presence that simply screamed '_power!'_

The discovery that the prophecy he had overheard – what he had thought would be his ticket to the Inner Circle – referred to Lily Evans and her unborn child had been a sharp and horrific jolt that dragged him, utterly unwilling, back down to the earth he should never have left. Hope was a cruel mistress.

He had served the Dark Lord faithfully until then, but Voldemort was not Lily Evans, and only Lily would ever hold his unwavering devotion. It was only for Lily that he would contemplate throwing his life away, because Lily was the only reason he lived. Lily was his everything; the one he loved, the one he aimed emulate, the innocent and carefree image that he had always strived to protect (_she'd never known what he had protected her from; Slytherins had a cruel sense of humour, and their favourite targets were mudbloods_). Severus was a Slytherin, and years of experience with Slytherin mindsets had taught him that oaths were to be carefully worded, for there were always loopholes.

He had always thought that the greatest flaw in the vow the Dark Lord required of them was that it only required them to be loyal when they made it.

Traitors had to be loyal first, after all. It was such a harsh word, treachery. It tasted sour on his tongue.

8. Every Death Eater knew that Justinian Mulciber and Lucius Malfoy had a network of informants in the Ministry ... and that wasn't even counting all the Aurors they had recruited (Rumour had it the Dark Lord even had an Unspeakable in his service; Severus had never been less sure of his choice than at the moment he heard that, but he had never been a coward and he would gladly die at Rookwood's hands if only it would save Lily). A traitor would be found out as soon as he stepped into the Auror Office, and he wouldn't be able to save Lily if he was dead at the Dark Lord's hands or incarcerated in Azkaban.

The only other option – Dumbledore and his Order of the Phoenix – was utterly unthinkable, but the only choice he had. Dumbledore was biased against Slytherins, had always (_subtly, but always subtly)_ made sure that they were marginalised by the rest of the school. (_Potter and his little gang would never have been able to get away with half of what they did if he had been fair – any Slytherin would have been expelled post-haste for the Werewolf Incident, but not Dumbledore's thrice-damned Gryffindor Golden Boys._) Biased, yes, but at least he would understand the need for secrecy, and Lily was a member of his Order, surely he'd want to help Severus save her, _surely_!

And he promised that he would do all he could, that Lily would be safe, and that he would use whatever information Severus could get to turn the tide of the war so she could be happy, as well. And if that bargain was utterly lacking in rewards for Severus, he hardly noticed, because it was alright if she was safe.

His world had shattered when he had heard that she was dead, and only a green-eyed, messy-haired baby with a famous scar to show that she had ever existed. That the Dark Lord was gone as well was hardly even a blip on the radar in comparison to that.

9. 1991, and Harry James Potter had arrived at Hogwarts. A Gryffindor through and through, of course (_he was James Potter's son, what else would he be?_), just like his father. At the start of the year, Dumbledore called Severus to his office. The usual offerings of lemon drops and tea were made, whilst the Headmaster twinkled merrily at him (_An eye-gouging curse would have been so satisfying, _Severus couldn't help but think. Every time he was up here. _) _The usual inane conversation, and then something Severus _hadn't_ expected – a demand (phrased politely, and designed to sound like a request, but a demand as unavoidable as one of the Dark Lord's) that he protect Potter. He acquiesced, of course. He always acquiesced; whether to his father, or Lily, or Lucius Malfoy, or the Dark Lord, or now Dumbledore. He'd thought he'd been free, for a while, but freedom is an illusive companion.

He'd tried, he really had. Potter genes or no Potter genes, Harry was Lily's son, the only trace of her still left. Faced with him, he could not help but spew bitter vitriol (_He was so much like James, it hardly seemed that there was any Lily in him at all_) but he had done the best he could to protect him. Except that he seemed to run into life-threatening situations wherever he went, and Severus could do nothing.

Failure was a word that had followed him all his life.

10. Had you asked him how he thought he would die when he was a child, he would have told you with typical childish arrogance that he was going to live forever (_because children, even unhappy ones, have little concept of mortality_). When he was a teenager, he would have told you that he would probably die on a mission for the Dark Lord. As a young adult, he expected that he would die either at the Dark Lord's hand, a traitor, or in Azkaban, once he'd outlived his usefulness and all the mindless masses and slimy politicians decided that they didn't need reminders of their fallibility around. The possibility of being killed by a snake over a fairy tale that was not – _could not _– be real had never so much as crossed his mind.

And yet here he was, and as he stared into Harry Potter's eyes and willed him to see his memories, to see and learn and _understand _he realised that he had broken yet another promise. He had always promised himself that he'd hate anything Potter even as he died and yet he found that he couldn't keep that promise.

Harry Potter had Lily's eyes, and he could never hate Lily.

He could never die hating Lily's eyes.


End file.
